


Numb

by LemonSupreme



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, dealing with Jason's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonSupreme/pseuds/LemonSupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after Austin City Limits...  Charlie is struggling to deal with Jason's death & her role in it.  She finds comfort in an unlikely place.  charloe one-shot</p><p>**cross-posted to FFnet**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I know what you're thinking…. "What the hell, Lemon? A new story, when you owe us more Brush Strokes! You owe us more Cold Dish!" Yeah I do. And you shall be rewarded for your patience in due time with new chaps for both of those stories. Consider this little one-shot as a bonus between regular chapters. I wrote it right after Austin City Limits aired and promptly forgot all about it. I forgot about it until today that is, when I almost deleted it thinking it was junk. Hope you'll agree that it was worth posting instead. haha. And hang in there… I'm working on the next chapter of Brush Strokes now.

Jason is dead. She blocks out the how of it, the why of it – right now she just looks at his death as an awful thing unconnected to her that has happened. A thing she can put in a box and tie with a string. She tucks this little nugget – this little packet of dreadful, painful information into a mental vault and locks it away.

She is done crying. She is done sobbing. She is done with all the fucking 'what ifs' that had plagued her at first.

At first…

In truth, she's lucky she's not dead herself. When the shit hits the fan, the Patriots are shooting and Miles, Bass and Connor have to run for it. They don't even know she's followed Jason into the old library. They don't know the first shot they hear is hers – tearing through the body of the first boy she'd loved.

Those feelings had been long outgrown, but you never forget the first one you crushed on. The first boy who made your tummy fill with butterflies. You never forget the way it felt when that person would smile at you or make you laugh.

You never forget what it's like to put a bullet through their chest, ending that life, taking away that smile.

She waits till nightfall to leave him. By then her body is shaking with exhaustion, her mind a muddy mess of memories and regrets. She leaves him there in that awful blood smeared room because she is too weak to move him, and wouldn't know what to do with him even if that weren't the case. She is far too weak and too weary to do anything other than drape his coat over his form. She brushes a hand through his hair and down his cheek – the coolness of his skin is startling. It brings her far enough out of her haze to remember that she has a checkpoint to reach, and she has to get there without anyone stopping to ask her why she is covered in blood or why her neck bears a vulgar necklace of bruises. She walks away from his body and doesn't look back. She can't.

No more looking back.

Maybe not ever.

Jason is dead. Charlie is numb.

Forward. One step at a time. Down the stairs. More stairs. One flight of stairs at a time. Were there this many stairs going up? More stairs. Finally, the bottom. Open the door. Walk out into the cool night. Act natural. Act natural. Act natural.

She was lucky that she was able to defend herself. Even in her grief, common sense tells her this. She also recognizes that she is lucky that the streets of Austin are dim and that the only people she meets on her short journey don't appear to want her attention any more than she wants theirs.

She winds her way through this city of shadows, covered in the blood of her first love – puppy love or not, it was still love, and he's still dead and she still killed him. Eventually Charlie makes it to the dock where the boat is moored. She doesn't see any of them at first, but then she wouldn't. The checkpoint is secluded and if they are there, they will be hiding. She lets out a low sound – a whistle – a signal to her allies that she is coming near.

She sees Connor first. His head pokes from behind a shed like the little puppy dog he is. Then he is joined by Miles and Monroe. The big dogs are here too. All three appear to be relieved. She notices this in a detached way. She doesn't care that they are relieved, but she takes note of the fact that they are all alive.

Alive is good.

Miles is cracking a joke about Robo Nipples, but Bass tells him to "Shut the fuck up" and hurries to her side. "Are you…" but he stops before he can ask if she's okay or if she's fine or whatever he was going to say because he sees the blood and there is a lot of it, and he sees the glazed look of shock in her eyes and he knows.

He knows because he's been there. He's been covered in the blood of someone who mattered to him, of someone whose death he was responsible for. He's had that same look in his eyes.

He knows.

Bass yells over to Connor, "Get her pack. She's going to need clean clothes."

Miles comes over now, concern replacing his usual sarcastic nature. "Jesus Charlie – all that blood. Are you hurt?"

She doesn't know how to answer that question. Her guts feel like they are on fire. Her throat hurts. Her heart aches. Her temples throb. Her body is trembling from exhaustion, but technically she's not hurt. Charlie doesn't answer, just stares at her uncle, then past him to Monroe. She looks in his eyes. He always can tell what she's thinking. He does it now.

"She's going to be fine Miles. Jason's gone. It's his blood." Charlie marvels even in her state of shock at just how in tuned she is with her former enemy. Former? When did that happen? She can't focus. Her brain is filling with cotton and everything is going hazy. She can't be bothered with anything anymore. She closes her eyes and blackness swoops over her in a blur and she is blessedly numb.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Damnit!" Miles yells as Bass catches Charlie. "What the hell?"

"She's in shock Miles. Just passed out. She's gonna be okay." Wordlessly Bass picks her up and carries her to the space they've been using behind an old equipment shed by the river. Connor has spread out one of the bedrolls and Bass lays her prone form on top of it. The three men look down at her.

"I've never seen that much blood on someone who was still breathing." Miles mutters.

"What the hell happened?" Connor asks, "How do you know it's Jason's blood?"

"I just know." Bass says quietly, sitting down next to Charlie. He doesn't touch her, but watches her breathing carefully. He knows what will come next. She'll need someone to help her through it when the time comes.

He knows how hard it can be.

He'll wait.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours have passed. Miles and Connor have both drifted to sleep. Bass still sits by Charlie's side, having offered to take first watch. Mostly he's been watching her sleep. Now and then he looks out across the river, soaking in the beauty of an eerily moonlit night. He feels the difference in her before he hears or sees it. She tenses ever so slightly, and then starts to rock a little. He moves down beside her, ready to move when the worst of the nightmare overtakes her and she begins to writhe against the memories of the day that are crowding into her sleeping head. Bass reaches for her and pulls her into a bear hug. He holds on to her as she bucks against the dream, crying into his shoulder. After a while, she stills. He is pretty sure she's awake now, but she has made no move to get away from him so he holds her until she is calm again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she emerges from the nightmare, she knows instinctively it is Bass who holds her, carrying her through the horrible dream. It feels right – to be held by him. It feels safe. Bass makes her feel safe. She knows she needs to think about why this is true. She needs to decide if it should be true. She needs to hold that thought carefully and inspect it. Poke it a little and figure out where it came from. Why is he the one she needs when she's hurting? Why isn't it her uncle? Why not her puppy dog former lover?

Because they aren't Bass.

Her brain is still muddled and she decides to tuck this new problem away next to the Jason business, tie it up neatly and put it on that mental shelf. She'll think about it later. She's too tired right now.

"Charlie?" he asks quietly.

Charlie doesn't say anything, but puts her arms around his neck. She's not being flirty or suggestive. She just needs to be held. He gets it. He holds her a little tighter. After some time she relaxes, melting into Bass like soup into warm bread. He stirs, and whispers softly, "Charlie, you've got to clean up okay? We're going to hit the road early and you can't go like this."

She sort of nods. He takes the fact that she's responded at all as a good sign.

As soon as she hears Bass mention cleaning up, she can think of nothing else except the caked on blood. She needs Jason's blood off her. In the dream she was drowning in his blood – the memory of the dream is so vivid, she can still smell it.

She stands but is so wobbly Bass has to steady her. Charlie takes a couple tentative steps before he simply picks her up and carries her to the water's edge. He stands her up and moves to go back to give her some privacy but she keens for him, the sound she makes is nothing more than a scratchy, needy wail. He is back at her side immediately.

"Help me." These are the first words she's uttered since arriving at the camp. Her voice shakes.

Bass moves to take her in his arms. He is steadying her, not speaking, not moving, not pushing her to do anything just yet. He is just there, and that is what she needs the most. She steps back a little, and pulls limply at her jacket. Her exhaustion is so overwhelming; she can't even get her fingers to move right. She looks up at him, pleading silently. He nods, and carefully removes her jacket, tossing it on the bank. Next he pulls at her blood stained tank top. The faded bra below is also soaked through but he leaves it where it is. She doesn't move. Doesn't resist. She watches him as he undresses her as if it's happening to someone else. After leaning down to untie her boots, he un-snaps her pants and helps her step out of her jeans and boots. Now she's standing in only her underwear and Jason's blood. Bass is watching her eyes, never letting his gaze travel down her form.

Ever the gentleman.

He finds her soap and hands it to her. She grasps the bar, but doesn't move. The soap hangs limply in her hand. Assessing the situation, Bass quickly takes off his boots and socks, and then leads her into the water. They wade in till they are waist deep. Bass feels the water sluicing inside his clothes.

He doesn't care.

Wordlessly she lets him take the soap and carefully begins washing the blood from her body. His touch is tender and kind. She watches his hands as they move over her skin. The water is warm and the soap smells good and his hands are so gentle, so deliberate. Charlie closes her eyes to appreciate the feeling of this moment. She is getting cleaner with every second that passes as Bass slowly removes the blood. Jason's blood. Blood spilt by her. Charlie shakes her head roughly to stop that train of thought.

"Keep your eyes open." Bass says quietly, "It will help a little."

She looks up at him and nods, her eyes now open fully; she goes back to watching his hands. He has such a soft touch for such a rough man. His fingers are careful but businesslike. Her thoughts wander briefly to what it would be like to have that touch under other circumstances – without all the business.

She shudders just a bit, her nipples harden as her body betrays her secret thoughts. Bass notices, and for just a moment stops moving. Then he begins again, pretending nothing has changed. She looks up at his face and sees that his jaw is set in a grim line. In spite of his soft touch, she can feel tension rolling from his body. She reaches a hand up to touch his shoulder and he freezes.

"I'm sorry." She says simply.

His eyes flash as his gaze swings to hers, "Sorry for what? You haven't done anything."

She swallows hard. Her throat hurts and her voice cracks, "I'm sorry I blamed you for so much for so long, while I forgave Miles. That wasn't fair. I'm sorry." Even though Charlie's voice is no more than a hoarse whisper, she can tell he hears her.

"Don't worry about that now." He won't meet her eyes. "Don't worry about anything. We're almost done." He finishes up and says, "Dunk under. We need to rinse out your hair." She does as he asks. Coming out of the water, she feels cleaner, until she looks down and sees the brown stains on her drenched underwear. Anxiety bubbles up from her gut and she panics, letting go of Bass' hand she begins to rip and claw at the offending items until they have been torn from her body. Charlie drops the pieces in the water to float away with all the rest of Jason's blood. She takes a deep shaky breath, and reaches for Bass' hand again, letting him pull her to shore. She isn't shy or embarrassed about being naked. She doesn't care. At least she's clean. He wraps a warm wool blanket around her shoulders and then goes to the other side of the camp to get his bag, water sluicing from his heavy jeans with every step he takes.

Moments pass. Woodenly, Charlie puts on her spare set of clothes. They are warm and dry and a little scratchy against her damp skin. She settles down on her bedroll, facing the fire. Without a distraction, her mind wanders. In her head she sees Jason as he falls – his eyes wide with surprise. He was zombified as Bass had put it. Still, zombie or not – she hadn't wanted him dead.

He's dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The scene is on a loop in her skull and she aches for it to disappear. "I didn't want to kill him. I didn't have a choice." Her voice is quiet but frantic. She didn't even know he was back until she hears his response.

"I know." Bass says, his voice a whisper on the wind.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass had pulled off his dripping clothes, wrung them out as best he can and laid them by the fire to dry. Quickly he dries himself and dresses in dry clothes before returning to her side. Charlie stares into the fire blankly. He knows she's not seeing the flames. She's seeing something else entirely. He sinks down beside her in time to hear her say she didn't have a choice.

He does the only thing he can think to do. He says, "I know" and pulls her into his arms. Eventually she sleeps, and she is still snuggled against him when Miles wakes for second watch. Miles raises an eyebrow in question. Bass just shakes his head and pulls Charlie closer, closing his eyes.

Sleep. Bass needs sleep.

He wakes before she does. As far as Bass can remember, she didn't have any more nightmares after the first. He figures that's a good thing. She is turned into his body; her face buried in his neck, her breath is low and even; blowing hot against his throat. Bass' arms are wrapped around her back. Charlie's hands are tucked between them. He closes his eyes for a minute, not wanting to break away from her but knowing he should. He's thought about holding her a lot lately, but he wishes it wasn't this way. He wouldn't wish this grief on anyone.

Especially not on his Charlie.

His Charlie?

When did he start thinking of her as his?

Not all that long ago, he supposes. It had been a gradual progression. Whatever the reason, he knows it's not the right time to think about it. Bass opens his eyes again and starts to move, but stops – feeling the pull of a gaze on him. Connor is sitting beside what is left of last night's fire. He is watching them with a broody expression, jealousy oozing out of his pores. "Oh hell," Bass thinks to himself. He really should have gotten up earlier. Bass continues to untangle himself from Charlie. It takes some time, as she was really rooted close. Finally he stands and stretches. Charlie continues to sleep. Bass walks over to his son's side.

"Hey. Where's Miles?"

"Scouting the area, making sure its okay for us to head out."

"What time are we…"

Connor interrupts, standing suddenly, leaning close, "What the hell was that?" he asks just like the little bitch he sometimes can be.

"What are you talking about?" Bass is on edge. He's not in the mood for bullshit.

"Charlie. Why did I wake up to you two all cuddled up? Geez Monroe, have you been trying to hit that all along and just didn't tell me?"

Connor is on the ground before he fully registers that his Dad has punched him, hard. "The hell?" Connor cries out, wiping blood from his mouth.

"Don't ever talk about her like that again." Bass walks away, shaking with rage. He passes Miles who had witnessed the interaction as he returned to the camp, but Bass says nothing to him. Miles makes his way over to Connor and holds out a hand.

"What did you do to him?" Miles asks, drolly, helping the younger Monroe to his feet.

"I asked what was going on with him and Charlie. He didn't take it well."

Miles nods, "Yeah, I guess he wouldn't."

Connor is rubbing his jaw, and glances curiously at Miles, "What do you mean?"

Miles leans against the shed they're camped behind and looks over at Charlie sleeping by the dying fire. "Well, Bass is pretty protective of family, and to him she is family because he and I have been like brothers forever and Charlie is my niece."

Connor nods, "I guess so, but..."

Miles continues without letting Connor say more, "But I'm guessing he hit you because you asked him a question he's started to ask himself."

"But you just said he thinks she's family."

"Yeah, but she's not. And he knows that. And something has been going on between them for a while. Not sure either of them understands it yet – it's still sort of under the surface, but if you watch them long enough you'll see it too. Pissed me off at first, but, what can I do? They're adults." Miles shrugs. "He's thinking about it and is trying to figure out how he feels. Did the same thing with Tillie McDonald when we were sophomores in high school. He liked her but didn't want to admit it, and wasn't sure how she felt."

"Yeah, who was she?"

"Our English teacher." Miles laughs. "He never did act on that one, though he probably should have. I think he's in a similar place with Charlie. He realizes he likes her, but doesn't know how she feels. They'll both figure it out eventually."

Connor is clearly shocked.

"Close your mouth kid. You look like an idiot." Miles chuckles and walks away. Connor fumes, but suddenly in his head he plays back a million little things he'd witnessed between his Dad and Charlie and when put together in a neat little row; he can see Miles is right. Something is there.

"Damnit." Connor growls, walking away from the camp in a direction different from the one Bass had taken. He needs to think.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass returns to camp not long after leaving. He had needed to cool off a little, and feels better now. He ignores Connor, having no patience for his kid right now.

Once again, he's sitting by Charlie. They'll have to wake her soon. The sun is up, and they need to get on the road. They really should have left hours ago, but Charlie needed the rest.

She stirs and his attention is immediately on her. Eyes flutter open and his face is the first thing she sees. She smiles a little, "Bass." She says quietly, her voice scratchy. Her smile tightens his chest. His heart rate steps up a notch.

"Charlie." He says quietly. Her smile fades. He can see the flash of memory crossing her face. The hazy moment of sleep induced amnesia has passed. She remembers. For a moment he's sure she's going to crumble, but she doesn't. Charlie sits up and says, "We need to go, right? I'll get my stuff."

She's a little unsteady, but finds her pack and the guys follow suit.

Bass watches her, a surprising bolt of pride pulses in his chest. She's tough. She'll be okay.

The first leg of their journey will take them north. For now they are sticking to the water, walking single file along the shoreline as they make their way to Lake Travis where the Patriot headquarters are located. The rest of the men who once were part of Duncan's war clan are supposed to meet them there in two days.

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. Bass leads, Charlie follows with Miles behind her. Connor takes up the rear. They walk in silence.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie's head feels starkly clear this morning. A good night's sleep had been exactly what she needed. Now she can sort through her thoughts and try to make sense of it all. Jason is dead. He's dead because she killed him. She killed him because he was activated or whatever. The Patriots were at fault really. What had that guy called Jason? A weapon. That's what she'd ended up being as well. A goddamn Patriot weapon. Charlie feels anger building in her gut. She wants revenge. She'll get it in time. She's sure of that.

The grief is still there right next to the burning regret, but allowing herself to blame someone else takes the edge off.

She lets her mind wander as they walk along. The rhythm of their steps thumps inside her head. It's good to be on the move. Every breath of fresh air is helping her keep it together. She feels like a jigsaw puzzle… each step away from Austin brings a piece back to where it belongs.

It washes over her then – the realization. She will be okay. Charlie smiles slightly to herself. She takes a deep calming breath. Jason is gone, but Charlie is here. She is going to be okay.

Charlie is still lost in thought when she realizes she's been staring at the ass in front of her. Monroe's ass. Whoa. When did she start doing that?

The memories flood through her mind and she loses focus on the (admittedly fine) ass before her. She remembers feeling his arms around her last night. She remembers that he bathed her, and now in the light of day this thought embarrasses her a little. She wonders what he thought about what he saw? Did he care? Did he even notice? She remembers his touch as he used soapy fingers to clean the blood from her skin. She remembers the way his jaw was clenched, like he was trying not to say something… or maybe trying not to do something… She finds that thinking about Bass in this way is a nice distraction, and a distraction is exactly what she needs.

She can't deny that she's been thinking about Bass differently for a while now. It all started on the road to Willoughby she supposes… even though she hated him at the time, she'd noticed. She'd noticed the cut of his muscles and the tight ass. She'd been intrigued by that rare smile that crinkled his eyes, and wondered what it would be like to bury her hands in his hair… She'd imagined what it would feel like to taste him… to be tasted by him…

Yes, the thoughts had been there, but she'd always pushed them away…buried them deep where she could deny their existence if anyone asked. She'd known for sure she wanted him in New Vegas. When she'd seen him with Duncan the jealousy that flooded through her had been green and thick. She'd acted rashly – sleeping with Connor had been a stupid attempt to forget the Monroe she actually wanted. After the deed was done, she'd felt like an idiot. Once again, she'd shoved her feelings down. Pushing them so far out of sight she almost forgot they were there.

Almost.

Suddenly the floodgates are opening and she's letting those secret thoughts return.

The truth is simple: she likes Monroe and not just because he's sexy as hell (though this is certainly true). It's bigger than that. She likes him because he gets her in a way nobody else does.

Charlie feels a little guilty – after all the blood of her first love is still floating down the river and here she is lusting after someone else – but the guilt fades quickly. It fades as it is replaced by a new thought that stops her cold. What if she had died last night? Died without ever knowing if Bass likes her back?

She thinks about the way he looks at her sometimes.

She finds that her mood is lifting.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They are making good time and break for lunch.

Bass sits on a big rock near the water's edge eating a green apple and some venison jerky. Not much of a lunch, but it will do. They'll take time to hunt some meat tonight when they make camp. He's using his knife to cut slices from his apple, and has just popped a chunk between his lips when he feels that tingly feeling that usually goes along with being watched. He sits up straight, and glances over to where Miles and Connor are talking and then to his other side where Charlie sits not four feet away. She's looking at him as she eats her lunch.

"What?" he asks. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

Bass nods. "You did what you had to do Charlie. Nothing wrong with that."

"I know that up here," Charlie taps her temple, "But my heart is taking longer to convince." Her voice is sad but stoic. She's not bursting into tears. That's a good thing, he thinks.

"That will take a while." He agrees.

"I meant what I said last night Monroe. I'm sorry."

"And I meant it when I said you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Yeah I do. I forgave Miles for everything, just accepted him without a second thought. He doesn't deserve any special treatment. Either I should forgive you both or hate you both."

"It would be hard to hate Miles." Bass says. He knows from experience how true that is, "but hard to forgive the guy who killed half your family too." He watches her carefully, curious about what she's thinking.

"I really don't blame you for Dad and Danny anymore. Should never have laid it all on you in the first place."

This is a surprise, "Why is that?" Bass asks, genuinely curious. "Seems like you were very convinced for a long time."

"You didn't turn out the lights. My parents did. You asked for my Dad alive. You kept Mom and Danny and I alive. We escaped, of course – but if you really wanted us dead, we would have been dead. And Danny died fighting. We were at war. People die when they fight a war."

A lot of thoughts run through Monroe's head. He is almost overwhelmed with gratitude, not having realized how much her forgiveness might mean to him. "Thanks." He replies quietly, an unexpected lump lodging in his throat.

"It's kind of like that with Jason dying too. The Patriots ruined his life, and when they activated him; I was either going to be his victim or his killer. I chose to defend myself, but I don't think Jason's dying is my fault." Charlie looks at Bass with a question in her eyes. She's wondering if he agrees. Bass nods.

They sit in silence for a few minutes as they finish eating their lunch.

"Life is too short." Charlie says, breaking the silence. "Ever think about things you wish you could do over? Wrongs you wish you could right? Things you should have done, chances you should have taken or whatever? Ever wonder if you have time to make things right?"

"All the damn time." He mutters.

"Me too." Charlie tosses her apple core into the weeds and walks closer to Bass. "I think maybe I shouldn't have followed Jason at all. Then maybe someone else would have killed him and not me."

"Or," Bass responds, "He might have somehow killed all of us."

"Yeah, or that." She pauses for a moment, "I think I should be nicer to my Mom sometimes. I don't agree with her often, but she's my Mom." Bass doesn't say anything. He just stares at the chunk of jerky still in his hand. She continues, "I think I shouldn't have slept with Connor."

Bass' eyes fly to Charlie's, and he sees something in her expression that stirs his basest needs. "Why do you say that?" Bass curses himself for the way his voice has went low and a little rough.

"I should have never even considered sleeping with him when he wasn't at all the one I wanted."

"What are you saying Charlie?"

"I think you know."

"No. This is your grief talking. You need a distraction, but I don't want to just be some distraction for you."

"Oh really?" she leans a little closer and presses a hand against his chest over his heart. "I think you do. I'm not blind Monroe. I see the way you look at me."

Bass doesn't move other than to glance over at Miles and Connor. They are lost in some discussion and paying no attention to Bass and Charlie.

"So why did you do it?" Bass changes tactics. "If it was such a bad idea, why did you sleep with him?"

"I thought he might be able to make me forget."

"Forget what?" Bass' voice is now so low she probably wouldn't even be able to hear him if she weren't standing so close.

"You." Charlie says simply.

"Listen Charlie. I really don't think you know what you are talking about. Like I said, this is the grief talking. It's not how you really feel." Nervously Bass runs his fingers through his hair, making the curls stick out on one side. He takes a step back.

"Or," she said taking a step closer, "This is how I really feel, and Jason dying reminded me of how little time we probably have to do something about it." She cocks her head to the side and grins that rare Charlie grin that is all teeth and dimples and just like that Bass is hard as a rock. Part of his mind tells him to grab her and carry her into the forest so that he can ravish her. The saner part says he needs to make her stop this.

"No." he decides to go the direct route.

"No, what?" she asks, "No, not right now? No, because I'm half your age? No, because I already slept with your son? No, because Miles would get mad?" With each question she has moved closer and her voice has gone to a whisper. Now she's standing in his personal space, looking up at him with those big blue eyes.

Bass shakes his head, before turning to walk away from her, "How about No, all of the above?" He sees the hurt in her eyes, and he regrets saying it but on the other hand she's not looking at him like he's dessert anymore and that is the most important thing right now.

She walks away from him, disappearing into the woods – her expression stony.

Miles and Connor watch her leave, and exchange glances. Connor asks Miles, "What was that all about?"

"I have no idea, and I'm okay with that. I suggest you be too."

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. They make camp at dusk. Charlie hunts, coming back with two squirrels and a rabbit. Miles dresses their dinner and soon they are all digging in, hungry after a day of walking. Bass takes first watch again, though tonight he is doing so from a stump about fifteen feet from his sleeping companions.

He has not talked to Charlie since their interaction at lunch, but he sneaks glances at her when she's not looking.

He watches her now, sleeping. So far she's peaceful, but even after their earlier problem – he's ready to step in if the bad dreams come back to haunt her. An hour passes and then another and he's almost convinced that she's going to be fine when he hears the low moan. He's at Charlie's side in a moment, repeating the night before by taking her in a fierce hug, rocking her gently as she fights her demons. She stills but doesn't try to move away so he continues to hold her; gently stroking her back; whispering in her ear that everything will be all right.

As he repeats the assurance over and over he starts to wonder if he's not trying to convince himself as well. "Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the dream she's in that stupid room again and Jason is coming at her and she shoots him but when she gets to his body it's Bass and not Jason and she looks into his eyes and he says he's sorry that they never had a chance.

She startles awake, held tight in an embrace. She knows it's Bass and he's very much alive and she immediately calms. His long fingers are stroking her back and he's whispering in her ear and she starts to feel a warmth deep in her belly. Her breath catches as his hand dips to her lower back. He feels her stiffen, and pauses for just a moment.

Bass looks down at Charlie and she returns his gaze and in that moment the heat between them is a living thing. She looks at his lips and leans in just a fraction, and then his mouth is on hers and suddenly she knows what she's been missing. She feels this kiss singing through every nerve ending. Connor never kissed her like this. Nobody has ever kissed her like this. She moans into his mouth as his tongue slides next to hers, exploring… searching.

They break apart, both breathing heavily. His eyes bore into hers and she sees heat and longing and also wariness there. Bass slowly, gently lays Charlie back on her bedroll and stands. For a moment he just looks down at her and then he softly says, "I think you're going to be okay now." Before he turns and walks back toward his post as if nothing has happened.

"Wait." She calls out softly. He stops and turns. She reaches him quickly and presses the palms of her hands against his hard chest. She can feel the way his heartbeat is pounding below the heated flesh. She likes the way it feels. Her hands move softly in circles. He doesn't move.

When he talks his voice is hoarse. "What?"

"What if I don't want you to be JUST my distraction?"

Bass doesn't say anything at first, just holds her gaze. Slowly, he leans closer. "Well, if that's not it…" he whispers against her ear, his breath hot, "What do you want me to be?"

"More Bass. I want you to be more."

Again he is silent. Their eyes lock. She sees his indecision, his desire, his fear. She sees his longing and his uncertainty. She sees when the uncertainty fades and is replaced by acceptance and maybe… hope.

He lowers his face closer to hers, and whispers, "More, huh? Yeah, maybe I'd be okay with being MORE." And then he's kissing her and she is overwhelmed by the feelings that surge through her body at his touch.

Not so long ago she'd felt numb. She hadn't been sure she'd ever feel alive again.

She'd been wrong.

This is what alive feels like, and it feels….amazing.

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: I will not be adding to this. It truly is a one-shot. Review if you have a moment.


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